


ease

by eroticgropefest (goldfishsunglasses)



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda Fluffy, M/M, like very very minor, penelope is a worried bff, simon is sad and baz sucks at the comfort words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 14:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10538100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldfishsunglasses/pseuds/eroticgropefest
Summary: simon shows up to the flat with a black eye and a cut lip, refusing to talk about what happened, so a worried penelope asks baz to come over (or the one where simon’s insecure, and baz is terrible at comforting his dragon boyfriend)





	

**Penelope**

The door to the flat swings open and Simon barrels his way inside. I gasp when I see him: his shirt is torn with flecks of red (Is that blood?) splattered around the neckline; his hair looks dirty and matted, like he’s been rolling around on the ground; and there’s a definite limp in his step. After slamming the door shut, he winces and grabs his wrist, and that’s when I notice his eye.

“Fuck a nine-toed troll, Simon! What happened to you?”

He won’t look at me and the expression on his face is one I haven’t seen in a long time. It frightens me a bit, but it’s still just as important to me that Simon knows I’m not afraid of him, so I take a step forward. He recoils and pushes past me towards his room, slamming the door once inside, making me flinch.

The sound reverberates through the living room before plunging the flat into absolute silence. It’s horrible.

After taking a moment to collect myself, I walk towards his room, hesitating a beat before knocking. “Simon?” No answer. I try again, knocking louder this time, but he still won’t answer. I try turning the knob, but it’s locked. Chewing on my lip, I consider spelling it open, but that would be breaking unspoken roommate rules, so I do the only thing I can think of right now.

I ring Baz.

* * *  
**Baz**

I’m sitting in an evening lecture when my mobile starts to vibrate. It’s on the desk and the noise makes a few of my fellow students turn around and stare. I sneer at them (old habits), and look to see who’s calling.

It’s Bunce.

It’s not that we aren’t close enough to call each other, it’s just that we never do. The fact that she has, and especially during a time she knows I’m at school, makes my blood run cold. I’m so distracted with worry that I forget to move the desk over, and when I go to stand it pins me to the chair. Cursing loudly–and drawing even more curious eyes–I slam the damned piece of wood out of the way, and stalk out of the hall.

I manage to answer on the last ring.

“Baz?” Bunce’s voice sounds strange through the speaker, like she’s trying not to cry, “can you come over? Something’s happened with Simon.”

I drop the phone and it shatters on the pavement.

* * *  
**Penelope**

For the second time tonight, the door to the flat swings open. Only this time it’s Baz who practically falls through, righting himself at the last minute. He looks like he ran the entire distance between school and the flat. The screen of the mobile he’s clutching is shattered, something I don’t remember seeing before. Is that my fault?

“B–” I don’t even get a chance to say his full name when he marches towards me, our difference in height making itself known as he towers over me. (In reality it’s only several inches.) (It feels like miles.)

“Where is he?”

I point to Simon’s room and Baz nods. I wish I could tell him what happened, but I don’t exactly know myself. I just know I can’t fix this alone.

Baz

The smell of blood hit me as soon as I entered the flat and it only gets stronger the closer I get to the bedroom.

Snow’s door is locked, so I cast when one door closes. It works, and the one in front of me opens wide. I can’t see anything at first; Snow’s drawn the curtains shut and even turned out the light in the en suite, drowning the room in darkness. I use my mobile to guide me towards his bed and the red lump that I assume is my boyfriend.

“Snow?” I ask, biting my lip. Perhaps I should use his first name, given the situation, but I try and reserve that for when I really need it, like when we’re being soft. Or when I want him to know I’m afraid. “Snow?” I try again and the lump doesn’t move, but it does yelp when I poke it with the tip of my wand.

“Go away,” I hear him mumble, but I know he doesn’t mean it. (The door spell wouldn’t have worked if he hadn’t wanted to let me in.)

I square my shoulders. “No.” I need Snow to tell me what happened and I’ll stand here all night if I have to. This must occur to him, because he lifts his head.  

My breath catches when I see his black eye and bloody lip. I reach out to touch them, pulling my hand back at the last minute.

“What happened to you?”

He shrugs and I want to strangle him.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” I snap.

“I got in a fight on my way home.”

“No shit.”

“There were 3 or 4 guys; I don’t remember. They wanted my wallet, but I’d forgotten it at work and they weren’t very happy about that.”

I try to stop myself from picturing the scene in my head. Snow on the ground, surrounded by these men, being hurt by these men. Snow. Defenseless. I can’t process it.

Although he hasn’t held that title in a long time, Snow will always be the chosen one to me; seeing him so broken and defeated over something like this is overwhelming. He’s supposed to be strong, he’s supposed to be brave, he’s supposed to save the world. He’s supposed to be able to save himself.

This isn’t the first time I’ve seen Simon beaten and bloody, but it’s the worst time. It’s not that his injuries are severe (they really aren’t), it’s just that…

This wasn’t supposed to happen any more. We were supposed to disguise as regular Normals and live our happily ever after; nothing bad was supposed to touch us again.

Then he goes and gets himself mugged. It’s so horribly mundane, so insignificant next to every creature and task he’s taken on, yet this is the thing that breaks him. I’m furious on his behalf. I want to hurt the people who hurt him.

I swallow. “What happened next?”

“I tried–I tried to call–my sword…but–”

“It didn’t come.” I don’t even bother phrasing it as a question. I can’t believe this, “you were going to try fighting off a bunch of thugs with a sword? Are you daft?”

He looks miserable. “I was distracted by that long enough to give them a chance to jump me, and, well…” he rolls his hurt wrist and I catch it between my fingers, pulling my wand from my pocket with my other hand. He grits his teeth as I cast get well soon, listening for the crack that signifies it worked. I bring his now healed wrist to my lips and kiss it, feeling his pulse thumping under my lips.

Snow clenches his hand into a fist and I drop his arm, looking up at his face and hating what I see there. The healing spell had taken care of his eye and lip, but that lip is quivering now, and fat tears are beginning to rolls down his cheeks. He squeezes his eyes shut and starts gulping air, his arms wrapped around his knees and head bowed.

I want to reach out and touch him; make this better, make this go away, make him stop. I want to make him stop. He’s almost sobbing now and I don’t know what to do. I have to stop this.

“Shut up, Simon! Just shut up!”

His head snaps up and he looks at me as if I’ve slapped him. I almost feel like I have.

“What the fuck, Baz?” his breath catches on my name and I feel my heart sink just that much more.

I didn’t mean it. I want to apologize, but the words won’t come; they’re stuck in my throat and I clench my fists as I try to force them out. He’s still staring at me, his face etched in an angry frown, and I give up on speaking.

He watches me warily as I sit down on the bed and I flinch. The scent of blood is stronger now, and I can feel my fangs threatening to pop. I curse the fact that I haven’t fed recently and try to will them to stay put. The last thing I need to do is make the situation worse.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper and he blinks at me. “I’m sorry,” I repeat and his face crumples as he falls forward. I let him bury his face into my chest, let him clutch at my shirt, let his tears soak the fabric. I let him cry until he can’t anymore. His breathing is even and quiet now; and I’m relieved.

**Simon**

Baz pulls me close, pressing a kiss against my temple: once, twice, three times. I can tell he thinks I’m asleep, because he’s murmuring things he’d never let me hear otherwise. He’s calling me Simon and telling me he loves me and how scared he was and how brave and stupid I am.

He starts scratching lightly at the spot between my wings, the one he knows I love, and I’m melting into the mattress.

He somehow manages to press himself even closer, his breathing tickling my ear as he whispers, “you’re so bloody stupid, you know that? I don’t need a Chosen One; I don’t need a fairy tale; I certainly don’t need some self-sacrificing superhuman with a hero complex. I just want you, Simon Snow.” He stops to kiss my shoulder.

“I just want you.” It’s a reassurance and a promise. And I believe it.

 _I want you too,_ I think back at him, _I want you too._

**Author's Note:**

> [reblog on tumblr ( ﾉ ^ヮ^ )ﾉﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ](http://eroticgropefest.tumblr.com/post/159165164397/ease)


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